


Bottom Line

by IreneClaire



Category: Hawaii Five-0 (2010)
Genre: Angst, Bromance, Coda, Episode: s06e25 O Ke Ali'i Wale No Ka'u Makemake (My Desire is Only for the Chief), Friendship, Gen, Hurt Danny "Danno" Williams, Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-06
Updated: 2016-10-05
Packaged: 2018-08-13 08:10:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 18,476
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7968973
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IreneClaire/pseuds/IreneClaire
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Coda to the Season 6 finale "O Ke Ali'i Wale No Ka'u Makemake", also known as:"My Desire is Only for the Chief". Standard whump, bromance, and hurt/comfort/angsty warnings apply as usual. Never thought I'd do this ... but after dwelling on this special request from a lovely reader to consider doing a coda, the bug "bit" and so here it is ... a coda to Season 6's finale. I hope it satisfies! Thanks again to KomodoQueen for being the beta-taskmaster-treasure which she is!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I do not own Hawaii Five-0 or any characters. No copyright infringement intended.

**H5O* H5O* H5O* H5O* H5O**

 

He smiled but no one noticed that it lacked his usual humor. In fact, not even a smidgen of good will reached his eyes and the sad attempt faded quickly. Still, no one even spared him a second glance. He both resented that and then weirdly didn't care at all because he was simply too exhausted on so many levels. The bad jokes had grown stale, as had much of his friends' other supposedly funny antics. Bone-tired and feeling utterly unwell from the top of his head down to his very feet, he'd honestly never been amused and now, he was truly bordering on downright miserable.

Tuning everything out around him, Danny closed his eyes as he argued a sickly chill. He catalogued the various aches in each part of his body, then added in the deep throb from the recent surgical procedure just for good measure. The incision was tight and seemed to leak a steady heat. It was more than uncomfortable and he briefly wondered if Steve felt the same way, but discounted his flare of worry quickly when he heard the strength in the voice from the second bed.

Steve apparently felt just fine - _thank you very much_ \- and truth be told, that was equally fine with him, too. He didn't want thanks. In fact, that never even occurred to him; not once. Ever.

Steve. Alive. _THAT_ had been the point of the surgery in the first place. To want thanks or to feel any other way about how good Steve sounded - how wonderfully _alive_ he was - would only serve to sabotage the real truth.

He'd nearly died and God help him, Danny thought Steve _had_ , even before he'd managed to land that damned plane. Steve - alive - was miraculous on each and every level. To be next to him and hear him laugh was seriously incredible. At the mere thought of just too many frightening events, Danny felt the sting of tears behind his lashes before almost brutally forcing them away. Everything was simply too fresh for him and feeling ill made those things all the more vivid.

Steve survived. Period. He was healing and would be fine.

The cold hard fact for how Danny might be feeling the exact opposite of good was interestingly very typical. Where Steve could evidently bounce back from near death, Danny's own discomfort served him right and was just another type of woe to add to a very, very long list. And that was just the physical aspect; Danny hadn't even spent too much time dwelling yet on the emotional disconnects.

Swallowing hard in an effort to settle a queasy stomach, Danny didn't say a word after a while, not even bothering to feign being interested in the conversation between Steve and the rest of their team. His fingers twitched to trace the edge of the bandage just under the blanket, stopping shy of really testing how sore he might be when a sharp pain flickered warningly under his skin.

He sucked in his breath and squeezed his eyes closed when the pain sharpened to that of a knife and refused to abate. It lasted long enough for him to wonder if he should say something, then it was gone and he was left lying exhausted once more. Still, for the first time, Danny felt a pang of unease and wondered if it meant anything.

A week had gone by since Steve had nearly died on that damned plane. An entire week since they had both miraculously survived a shooting, a crash landing and dual surgeries. _Seven total days had elapsed_ and Danny didn't feel better; he only felt incomprehensibly worse.

It was normal though. A mission gone so badly wrong, inconceivably followed by a plane crash, and hours of activity. And what had he topped it off with? A major surgical event.

Of course, he'd be bruised and sore. Sick. It was going to take days and even weeks to get back on his feet.

Forcing himself to relax because this was all part and parcel of recovery, Danny kept his eyes closed, the lines in his face evening out after a time. He drifted within his thoughts and got mired in his physical aches as the conversation ebbed and flowed from the opposite side of the hospital room. Sometimes a sharp laugh or the boom of a deeper voice would bring him back to center. Yet he couldn't focus, so he kept his eyes shut, feigned sleep, and felt even more removed from the others as he permitted himself to drift away again. Part of him was duly annoyed for being ignored. But that part was so small in comparison to his current physical reality, Danny chose to feel more relieved that he didn't have to participate. He found himself preferring to escape into his head when he heard their visitors preparing to leave and not caring that one no one questioned his long stretch of unusual reticence.

"Danny?"

He roused briefly at the call of his name, clearly recognizing Kono's voice, her query soft as she apparently second-guessed if he might be merely resting his eyes or sleeping. "We're going to go," she added even more quietly, a tinge of concern evident when he didn't respond. "Danny?"

When he chose not to budge an inch, he felt her ease away and soon forgot she'd even lingered or gently ran her fingers over the back of his hand as a type of good bye until Steve's voice reached his ears. The others might have gone, but she'd hung back to return to Steve's bedside. Likely to talk to him a bit longer. However, Danny didn't expect that he'd be their soft topic of conversation.

"He okay?" Danny heard Steve ask Kono and he mentally sighed over a tone which bordered a true worry. Was he okay? Better yet, did anyone really give a shit if he was or wasn't okay? After seven days of bad jokes and poorly timed teasing, Danny had had enough.

"I think he's just sleeping," Kono replied quietly, now lurking at the foot of his bed and then meandering closer to the doorway, before pacing back towards Steve. "But I'm not sure. He seems... just not _right_ , to me. Maybe I should ask the nurse?"

"M'fine you two," Danny grumbled unhappily as he was forced to speak. "Shut up ... and let me sleep." He ignored their chuckles and then the minor patter of discussion after that last comment. It was all so very normal. So very, very typical.

But a minute later, Kono was back in his airspace and Danny peeled his eyes open when he felt the weight of a heavier blanket settling over his body. He was indeed cold down to his very bones and she'd noticed.

"What's wrong?" He murmured, though he was instantly gratified as warmth finally began to seep into his cold body.

"You're shivering," she explained her actions with those two simple words. "You're cold. I thought you'd like another blanket." She was right. Danny didn't have a need to argue that singular truth. He was very cold and uncomfortable. Making matters worse, an annoying ache just below his ribs had started to take an even firmer hold. That ache had become a sharper pain, something he almost couldn't ignore anymore as it began to flare whenever he tried to take a deeper breath.

Experimenting had proven to him that if he'd just stay still. If he could just lay there, eyes closed and his breath slow, shallow and calculated, he could actually find a place where he could lightly doze. But none of those woes were really gone even with that tactic. The cold lurked in his bones and the pain was still there. The only thing he'd managed to do was to keep it all at a dimmer, slightly more manageable level.

With a murmur of thanks, Danny closed his eyes and willed his body to find that more neutral place. The blanket moved again as Kono tucked it higher under his chin and then smoothed a stray strand of hair from his temple. The gestures were kind, soothing and Danny's lips slightly lifted upwards as he fell back into a doze.

"Get some sleep, Danny," Kono's voice breezed ever so softly over his head. Eyes closed though, Danny never noticed her expression. One that communicated a sense of uncertainty and indecision about the coolness of his skin and his unlikely lethargy. He never knew that she waited to see if he did fall asleep, reluctant to leave until Steve laughingly reassured her that he was fine - that they were both perfectly fine.

When Danny did finally deign to surface a bit more, it was dark with the silence that only night-time hours could bring. He was oddly relieved to realize that the room was empty now, too, except for the light sounds of Steve's evenly cadenced breath sounds as he slept on. Other than that, it was blessedly quiet and he was relieved to be alone as he lay in his misery.

Danny mentally chided himself for being so negative and for having such a terrible attitude. Maybe, it was because of some kind of post surgical depression which magically made all the bad around him so much worse. However, he couldn't find it within himself to feel any other way no matter the excuse. Bad jokes from his team aside, maybe the way he was acting was prompted by the general ill way he felt.

Nothing was amusing. Nothing was good enough. But he felt sick and that was reason enough. As he roused now, he realized that the nausea had increased, as had the pain under his ribs. In fact, he dimly sensed that this pain was what had woken him.

He fidgeted briefly and hissed out a slow pained noise between his teeth. A cold sheen of sweat dotted his forehead and sparkled treacherously along his neck, small beads of moisture settling at the base of his throat.

' _Normal_ ,' he reminded himself. All of his damnable pains were a normal part of the healing process. Essentially alone and unable to rediscover a comfortable position, Danny fought to distract himself. His eyes flickered over to the TV remote, but he'd be disturbing his partner. Instead, he lifted his hand with an intent to pull the bedside tray closer, but then changed his mind there, too. The small packet of crackers and container of juice just weren't appealing at all.

He wasn't hungry or thirsty; had no interest in reading or watching television. Even less interest in talking or socializing. Hours had passed and he'd slept, yet he never felt truly rested.

Danny recognized that he was in a bad place and beginning to wallow more as another wave of nausea roiled his stomach. He was definitely in a bad place, yet he didn't care one bit. No matter the reason, should it be valid or not, Danny found it easier to play possum and hunker back down into a welcoming gray area where he could listen to the hum of life around him and yet remain far removed from all of it.

_**~ to be continued ~** _


	2. Chapter 2

**H5O* H5O* H5O* H5O* H5O**

 

Steve only glanced over to Danny once after Kono left before starting to randomly flip through a magazine. Where she was questioning Danny's lack of interaction and wondered at how cold he seemed to be, Steve had written it off as just another of his partner's tendencies to be overly sensitive. The negativity had become a norm in their banter and Steve thought nothing of Danny's moodiness.

 _Hell_ , if Danny caught so much as a head cold, he'd gripe for days on end. His office would look like a damned pharmacy. Tissues, pills, cough meds. And the griping ... it would start on the first sneeze and last until the very last hacking cough.

Plus, he knew how Danny felt physically because they'd virtually had the very same operation. If anything, Steve hurt _more_ because he'd been shot. Multiple times. With bullets; something which Danny had thankfully managed to avoid since he - Danny - was sitting on the right side of the plane. Unlike Steve, who as Danny saw fit to point out, had clearly been sitting on the _wrong_ side and _ergo_ , had been shot! In essence, only dumb blind luck had put him directly in the line of fire.

It was a stupid war of words. The shooter had one goal in mind and that was to bring down the plane. He'd been specifically after the pilot. Steve had been the pilot and as such, he had his own _ergo_ point to make!

 _Harrumphing_ under his breath as he replayed one of their last conversations, Steve shook his head. They had been poking at each other in an ever-increasing manner of wills, egos and words. Danny had promptly ended that go-round by trying to slam the privacy curtain closed. It was funny really and Steve began to grin.

More fond than really annoyed, and certainly believing he was more in tune with his partner than Kono would ever be, his smile deepened. Things were fine. Danny was okay and they'd be back on their feet in no time.

Danny was a negative soul and liked to complain. He complained about everything. _Cantankerous_ came to mind and Steve nearly chuckled out loud at that word.

Before she'd left the hospital, Kono had been bordering a line close to worried, but Steve easily accepted this as their norm. They were both healing up and this was Danny's normal. Everything was fine; even the barbed jokes were part of their every day existence. Nonetheless, there was one which Steve found himself regretting. Said recently, it was the very reason Danny had roughly jerked the privacy curtain closed in the first place.

And, thinking about what he'd said now, Steve's smile melted from his face with a certain realization. Maybe it hadn't been so funny; just maybe he'd gone too far.

 _'I promise you Danny you give him time he's gonna grow up to hate you just as much as I do.'_ Of course he hadn't meant it. He'd been doing a thing; their thing. It was what they did.

Still, the words had popped out of his mouth too fast for him to even reconsider saying them. Mulling them over, Steve cringed inside and regretted them. He hadn't meant it at all, but now they sounded beyond harsh. Mean even and Steve wondered if that was when Danny had begun to back off. His kids were a sensitive subject, and rightly so.

Especially Charlie who'd been so, so sick. What he'd said had been unfair and rude.

' _Nah_ ,' Steve wasn't smiling anymore but he shook his head to the contrary about these new burgeoning feelings of guilt. He didn't mean it in a bad way. He never would. His partner was damned sensitive and nothing more. The whole thing was simply a friendly discourse, even if their banter was about a serious subject interspersed with Danny emoting about his touchy feelings.

Pausing his thoughts, Steve thumbed the head of his bed up higher in order to see Danny better. Lax in sleep and with the blanket still tucked up nearly to his chin, Danny's face lacked some color, but he was indeed sleeping quietly.

Steve stared at him for a long time before finally going back to paging through the dog-eared magazine. He wasn't reading it though, he was thinking.

**H5O* H5O* H5O* H5O* H5O**

 

"Danny? How are you feeling?" The question seemed sudden and it came from directly over his head. The woman's voice was soft, testament to the late hour, but it leaked persistently into his consciousness and he found that he resented being disturbed. He was hot - then cold - then only colder despite still being under the extra blanket which Kono had tucked around him. He shivered and muttered an annoyed sound, his eyes stubbornly closed and his desire to sleep stronger than that of obeying the nurse.

"Danny?" She pressed, her hand warm against his wrist as she moved the blanket aside in order to adjust the line leading into his arm. Her questions and constant attentive nature were all intentional ploys by this nurse to test his current state and he just didn't feel like answering.

"Detective? Danny? Can you tell me how you feel?"

With what seemed like an excruciating effort, Danny peeled his eyes open because he knew that she'd not give up. His lids were gummy and he had to blink a few times to clear his vision before trying to focus on the blonde nurse who was hovering just over the bed. He inhaled as if to speak, but then only managed a rough grunted noise of affirmation.

"You didn't eat your dinner," the nurse noted. "Do you feel all right?" She had a queer look on her face, a worried frown in fact and Danny mumbled another sound when his voice didn't seem to want to cooperate.

"Yeah," Danny finally said, his tone groggy with fatigue. "M'fine." His voice was hoarse and weak even to his own ears. He swallowed hard and tried again to get his point across, hoping the nurse would simply leave him alone. "I'm just not hungry. I'm fine, just a bit tired."

"You're a little ... clammy," the nurse added thoughtfully. "But ... tell me the truth. How do you feel? Are you still cold?"

"I'm okay," Danny mumbled again. He aimed a lopsided, completely unbelievable smile her way as a shiver wracked his body. He felt terrible down to his toes, sicker than before and that surprised even him and he began to wonder if he should be worried about that. Still, he tried to argue the aches and overall feeling of being truly sick.

"Really ... just ..." His breath hitched and he had to stop talking. Swallowing thickly as his voice cracked and he felt a wave of fatigue which overwhelmed him, Danny closed his eyes before being able to insist that the was only tired. _No_. This was different and he was worse; he was bone-weary, exhausted.

"Detective?" He'd zoned out. Lost time and he struggled back to just nod a reply which was evidently the wrong thing to do as the nurse briefly disappeared.

 _"Hey. What's wrong? Is he sick ... what's wrong?"_ Steve's voice was distant as he interrupted the nurse and muzzy-headed, Danny frowned because their mutual concern was on the rise - and entirely for him. It made no sense. While he was achy, he was more tired than anything else and who wouldn't be after what he'd managed to pull off on an undercover job gone sideways?

"Detective Williams? Danny?" The nurse's voice was persistent when she returned. It drilled into his head as he tried to zone out and ignore her wheedling. "Can you open your eyes for me?" He sensed her worry increasing now. Her queries multiplying to drown out Steve's, and completely reluctant about obeying any single one of them, Danny finally peeled his eyes back open with an intent just to satisfy her so she'd leave him alone.

" _Whu_?" He murmured tiredly as he stared blearily up into her face. "M'fine ... _juss_ ' tired."

"I know dear, but we need to check you out," she kindly tried to explain, the question about who 'we' might be leaving his mind when his doctor almost magically appeared in the room. Danny belatedly recognized the woman's authoritative voice first and his confusion deepened when he realized the privacy curtains had been drawn around him. An action which had set his partner off even more in the neighboring bed as another question was thrown their way.

 _"Is he okay?"_ Steve called out again. His voice far away, yet his mood disgruntled proven by the curse when he didn't immediately get an answer. _"Doctor Benning?"_

"Steve," Danny whispered far too softly for his friend to hear. His goal was to put Steve at ease, but now, Danny wasn't entirely certain that he could as more medical staff entered the room. They seemed to swarm around him and he cringed weakly away as the warmth of the blanket was removed and his hospital gown pushed aside for his physician to examine the surgical site itself. Danny shivered and then moaned as his belly was probed and pressed.

It _hurt_ so much more than it had before and he opened his eyes to object, squinting helplessly into Benning's face, surprised that her normally placid expression was now one of concern. He wanted to ask what was wrong and only managed to slam his eyes closed when her fingers located a particular spot which left him seeing stars. Feeling deafened by the pain, Danny just heard her demands for a bedside ultrasound. He missed more than he heard, but registered that her tone was urgent and brooked no argument. People were moving around him now at a dizzying pace, responding without question to her directions.

Coming and going, his welfare the singular concern, the activity became frightening in its intensity. He literally felt the tension in the room, however he could only rock his head in denial as Steve called out again demanding to understand what was going on.

But this wasn't supposed to be about him. It was about Steve ... his injuries. The life-saving surgery. His condition ... and not Danny's. Danny was _fine_. Perfectly okay except for a slight queasy feeling and aches which were to be expected after crash-landing an airplane on a not-so-soft sandy beach.

Danny moaned again, this time frustration warred with pain as an oxygen mask was placed over his face and the head of the bed lowered so that he lay completely flat on his back. The room was suddenly over-run and Danny knew that something was terribly wrong. He visibly winced as Benning's warm fingers traced across his abdomen and then over his broken ribs, higher even as she mentally cataloged things which seemed to dissatisfy her even more.

It _hurt_ and the moment Doctor Benning placed the ultrasound wand on his stomach, Danny audibly gasped. Hands clenched, his knees alternately flexed as he sought traction with his heels, digging in the mattress in a weak reactive attempt to get away. She soothed him and hushed his rising moans of pain while she continued her evaluation, knowing that he was oblivious now to everything except the agony he was in.

"What the hell's going on?" Steve ground out as he struggled to push himself upright. He'd been half-sleeping and the nurse's low, one-sided conversation had brought him fully awake. He was now stunned to see an increasing level of activity in the room.

"Hey?" He questioned automatically. "What's wrong? Is he sick?" Worry spiked when no one paid him heed. The privacy curtain around his partner had been closed. It now billowed and swung as medical staff swarmed over his partner. But he couldn't see a damned thing and no one even seemed to know he existed as all of his questions went ignored. Steeling himself, Steve pushed the blankets off his body to swing his legs carefully over the side of his bed. He'd been up a few times already; in fact, so had Danny. Slow, easy walks of the long hallway were encouraged and Steve dug in now, resolute in knowing that he could stand and shuffle the few feet to Danny's bed.

No one paid him any mind at all as he made his way towards Danny, one arm locked protectively around his middle, his shoulders hunched from discomfort and fear. Steve made it to the foot of Danny's bed just as an orderly swiped the curtain aside. He made it there just in time to get a good look at his best friend as the medical staff milled about, each with a particular job to do while Doctor Benning finished her examination.

Steve got there just in time to see Danny's grayish, sweat-slicked skin and hear the shocking visceral yell which came out of his mouth as he jack-knifed in the bed when Benning hit a certain spot as she completed her examination. Eyes wide when the female doctor uttered an unlikely oath, Steve froze in place, stunned by what he was seeing. Yet, when a nurse moved aside, Steve simply forgot how to breathe.

Danny's torso was littered by deeply colored bruises and abrasions. A myriad of blues, purples and inky blacks extended over his abdomen, covered his left side to nearly under his armpit and then splattered like abstract art across his chest. Splotches of a deeper red just below his ribcage looked newer though.

Regardless, all of the soft tissue injuries looked painfully extensive.

Old and ... _new_? Why would some look so very new? Steve at first couldn't quite process the reason or the why of what he was seeing at all. His eyes flickered to the white bandage. _Surgery_. Sure, of course, the incision ... their bandages nearly matched down to the same location. They'd only had nearly similar surgeries. But, what the hell was this? At a loss to understand, Steve's brain sputtered and then stopped until it kicked back in with a sickly vengeance. What he was seeing had nothing to do with Danny's donor surgery.

 _The plane crash. Broken ribs._ Of course. Steve hadn't even considered the results of such a severe blunt force trauma and the damage which it might have done; at least, not really. He hadn't _seen_ Danny and had only made assumptions. Bad, wrong assumptions about his partner and best friend.

 _'Oh my God',_ Steve mouthed silently as he was forced to back away for more medical staff.

This wasn't Danny. It couldn't be. He'd been fine ... he'd been sleeping. Only _sleeping_.

Now he was scarcely semi-conscious and moaning in agony while his doctor was simultaneously cursing under her breath and spouting orders to a terrifying number of staff. Leads which hadn't been there before now ran to and from Danny's body, as did fresh bags of fluids. His sweat-streaked face was partly hidden by an oxygen mask; damp hair matted to his head.

And all the while, Steve could only stand there, stock-still and unmoving, watching and rendered mute as Danny was transferred to a waiting gurney. Only to be whisked away to a place which Steve could only hazard a guess at.

No one had answered him. No one had really acknowledged that he was there. Left stranded in a now empty room, Danny's bedding strewn to the floor and looking as if a winter's storm had swept in on them without fair warning, Steve choked back a stunned helpless exclamation.

_**~ to be continued ~** _


	3. Chapter 3

**H5O* H5O* H5O* H5O* H5O**

 

"I'm sorry, man," Steve said hurriedly as he listened to Chin yawn and hoarsely mumble that it was fine. It was late, or early. One's interpretation of the hour depended upon personal state of mind, regardless Steve wasn't even thinking because he had to call someone. With hospital staff few and far between, and with updates on his partner quite literally non-existent, he needed help.

"Chin, I'm sorry that I woke you. But I need you here. I need you here. Right now."

The yawn on the other side of the connection was quickly stifled. Steve could almost see his friend nodding in agreement while he listened to the rustling sounds Chin made as he got out of bed and quickly dressed.

 _"It's okay, Steve. It's all right,"_ Chin reassured him, the clink of metal jangling in the background as he grabbed his car keys from the hallway table. _"I'm on my way ... Danny will be fine. He's fine ... I'll find out."_

"Yeah, okay. Thanks," Steve replied distractedly. "And one more thing ..."

He was all over the map with his thoughts and emotions, relieved that Chin was allowing him time to gather himself together without rushing. Relegated back to his bedridden state, Steve was taut with anxiety, his nerves raw and frayed. Doctor Benning had disappeared with his partner and no one could tell him a single thing. Nothing. Only that Danny had been rushed into emergency surgery and for what reason, again no one seemed to know. That was bad enough and Steve had to stop himself from punching the bed as a way to expend useless, pent-up frustration. But the severity of the deep bruises he'd finally seen running across Danny's side and chest had left an indelible stain on his mind. He wasn't only worried now, he was scared.

"Chin, I need you to do something else for me. I want to see pictures of the accident. I want to see them now ... so bring them with you."

 _"The accident?"_ Chin asked in confusion. _"Ah? Which ... what?"_

"The plane ... the crash site where Danny put us down ... bring the pictures and the accident reports," Steve said. "Bring all of it ... I want to see it all, Chin. Now. Tonight."

After the ending the call with Chin, Steve didn't know how he could have been so oblivious. Using his injuries and need for emergency surgery seemed more like poor excuses to him than rational, acceptable reasons. In the past, the welfare of any one of his men had always come first.

 _Always_. When had he forgotten that? When had he'd found it acceptable to neglect any single member of his team? But this was even outside the realm of that horrendous derogation of duty.

Danny wasn't just part of his ... duty or a job. And Steve hadn't just neglected _any_ member of his team, he'd forgotten his _friend_.

As another nurse trotted by the doorway to his room, not even pausing long enough to look in on him, Steve's eyes glossed over with tears. A second later, he wound up viciously punching the bed anyway.

**H5O* H5O* H5O* H5O* H5O**

 

"Where is he now?" Steve asked as he squirreled his shoulders into the mattress in order to shift himself up higher. By now, even without formal confirmation, he knew. He just needed to hear it. "Chin? Where's Danny?"

"He's still in surgery ... then they expect he'll be in ICU for a while," Chin replied as he entered the room, wincing when Steve's mouth fell open. Under his arm, he held a sheaf of files. Inside, were the reports, transcripts, and photographs from the plane crash on the beach.

"He ... _ah_ ... he'll be there for awhile, too. According to Benning, Danny has a slow bleed which developed into a hematoma. He crashed once ... but, they got in there just in time."

"Is he going to be all right?" Steve asked hesitantly. His question was spoken in monotone, his voice weary and riddled with strain. "Do they even know yet?"

"It's early, but Benning thinks so," Chin answered. "She came out to tell me as much as she could ... then, she went back in to assist." By the expression on his face, Steve could read Chin's confusion about what he said next. However, after seeing the myriad of bruising, Steve wasn't surprised at all. He was simply sad, bordering on a sickly feeling of helplessness.

"His liver's fine and Danny was evaluated before surgery, but it was early on and the scans missed the bleed," Chin slowly explained, his tone incredulous and yet worried that he'd miss something in the complicated retelling. "I don't understand it though, Steve. From the crash ... Doctor Benning described it as having occurred from getting so badly knocked around during the crash and she said that Danny developed a hematoma. On his spleen ... the condition ... it has a certain name, but I don't remember what it's called exactly."

"That's all right," Steve murmured, his eyes never leaving Chin's face as the Asian took a deep breath. His heart lurched as his worst fears were validated even if Chin didn't have the precise medical jargon under his belt. There was no doubt that Doctor Benning and the surgeon would be filling them all in once they were able; they'd have the whole story.

"Go on, Chin. What else do you know?"

Chin nodded, a weak smile communicating the apology for not being able to relay each and every medical word. Regardless, he knew enough to get to the crux of the matter. "They got in there just in time ... barely in time to drain the hematoma. They're finishing up on the repair of the damaged blood vessels to his spleen."

"That's why he's been so tired and sleeping so much," Steve quietly added. "And he's really been hurting. He's hardly said a single word about that though."

He rocked his head back into the pillows, his face showing a new level of stress and fatigue because he could fill in the rest based on his own knowledge and field experiences. "He was bleeding out internally and no one knew. How much longer?"

"In surgery? They're estimating about thirty or forty minutes," Chin said, slightly confused again by Steve's lack of argument over the diagnosis. He'd been positive that the setback was related to the donor surgery. What he'd been told was baffling at best and yet, Steve seemed to have known regardless of his demands for help. Chin's worry only intensified when he looked over, the younger man's hands were trembling and all color had drained from his face.

"He's weak, Steve. His system took one hell of a hit and he's not completely out of the woods yet. After he's moved to recovery, they said he'd be in intensive care for one or two days; to ensure he's stabilized."

"They never should have allowed it," Steve whispered hoarsely as he replayed in his mind what he'd seen earlier tracing so vividly across his partner's abdomen and chest. "No one should have allowed the operation to happen; there's always other options."

Chin's mouth flapped open, nothing coming out though. Steve was slowly unraveling right in front of him. But options? No, there hadn't been and any single one of them would have stepped up. Hell, they were all shoving shoulders to do just that until Danny intervened to shut them down because his argument of matching blood types was irrevocable.

But now? Chin didn't know what to say once he'd learned the facts. Danny hadn't suffered from any complications from the donor surgery at all, though having it done certainly hadn't done him any favors.

"There were no options at the time, Steve," Chin stated quietly. The files he clasped under his arm shifted and he startled before they could fall to the ground, a new realization dawning. Steve _knew_ or had at least suspected the reason behind Danny's sudden turn and that was why he'd asked for the crash reports. All of that was proven valid when Steve's finger rose high in the air, the anger in his eyes plain to see as he pointed to the files.

"The plane crash ... he was _hurt_ , Chin! He was hurt and volunteered himself for major surgery ... and they allowed it? You _all_ allowed it?" Steve's monotone was gone now, his voice rising to an angry hiss because he'd seen the damage along his partner's torso.

"Where were you? The medics? Who the hell intervened to insist he get properly checked out?"

Steve stared at Chin waiting for a reply, but the man looked lost. Steve blinked, taken aback by what the silence indicated. No one had asked? No one else had thought to intervene? What was happening now ... the bruising inside and out was all from _blunt force trauma_ \- just like from being in a car accident. Only in the hard landing of a damaged plane, one that Steve now bet that it was a divine miracle a novice had managed to land at all, about ten times worse ... or more. Steve blamed himself; he blamed the doctors. He blamed practically everyone for not being more astute. Evidently caught up with the criticality of his care though, they'd forgotten one of their own along the way.

"He rode in the ambulance with you," Chin sighed belatedly, his arms held out beseechingly. "He refused medical care to finish the ... mission. To get to the lab, before it was too late."

" _Refused_? And then ... kept going?" Steve ground out. "Give me those reports."

"He was thoroughly checked out before the surgery, Steve. He was checked from top to bottom," Chin reminded his friend as his temper rose and he beckoned for the paperwork to be handed over, which Chin did grudgingly.

"He was banged up, yeah, but he walked away from the wreckage. And yes, we wanted to stop him ...in fact, we _tried_ to stop him!" Chin insisted. "But you know how he can get and no one saw this coming ... plus, according to Benning the bleeder would have been too small to come up on a scan ... it's no one's fault. And _Danny_ ... he was adamant that he be the one to undergo surgery, Steve. Adamant ... because your blood types matched and it made sense to go with him in order save time because you had hours to live. Telling him _no_ also wasn't going to be an option!"

"God dammit," Steve cursed more loudly as yet another revelation came to light. His eyes widened in horror and he shook his head in distress as he opened the top file, the first picture that of the ruined, smoking fuselage. He paged through another picture and then a third, tossing each haphazardly on the bed.

"He walked away from this?" He whispered incredulously under his breath. " _This_?"

The damage was incredible and a direct antithesis to the breathtakingly beautiful backdrop of blue sky, crystalline waters and sparkling white sands. Breathing in sharply through his nose, Steve paused to bristle at the plane's bullet-riddled exterior and then the dark stains ruining the seats, his anger growing.

"He _walked_ away from ... _this wreckage_? What the hell, Chin?" Steve's voice rose to an all-time high as he waved a picture virtually under the older man's nose. "Danny walked away and no one stopped him? No one checked him out until he volunteered for surgery ...for _me_? This shouldn't have happened ... not to Danny ... not like this."

"Steve, ..." Chin started to say something and then stopped short. He had nothing of value to add. Steve was entirely correct. The man had a right to be this upset. In fact, as Chin watched Steve shove the first file to the side in favor of the second, his eyes fell back to the pictures which now littered the bed.

This was really the first time he'd seen the evidence. Sure, he'd been there in person, but the remembered mental images didn't entirely compare to the vivid photographic proof. In the quiet of the hospital, Chin had time to focus on what the scene actually entailed. He had time to digest the scope of the crash and better ascertain the force of impact based on what he now had the leisure to examine.

Unable to speak, Chin glanced up to look at Steve, his own feelings in a turmoil.

The ex-SEAL's face was as white as the sheet he was laying on. His hands were shaking badly as he read through an accident report, his jaw set; in fact, his entire body seemed to be vibrating.

But not from pain, from a surge of fury.

_**~ to be continued ~** _


	4. Chapter 4

 

**H5O* H5O* H5O* H5O* H5O**

 

He licked his lips because they were chapped; overly dry. His entire mouth was dry actually and Danny grimaced in distaste when he found the woeful lack of moisture. There was a movement next to him and a soft rustling sound as someone walked closer. However, Danny opened his eyes only when he felt the gentle hand which had been placed on his forehead, confused to find Steve staring back down at him.

He didn't quite remember more than a fuzzy image of a nurse and overhead lights from his earlier waking in recovery. But waking a second time to a seriously concerned best friend was confusing.

"You know, Danno," Steve whispered right away. "They say that any landing you walk away from is a good landing. But what you did ... how you did it... and not to mention ... why. I don't know if I should punch the shit out of you right now or kiss you."

Completely confused, Danny didn't even know what to say to the short recitation. In fact, he didn't even know where he was since this room wasn't the one he'd remembered last being in.

" _H'ppend_?" He slurred sloppily. He was surprised that he could barely speak, so parched that he could only willingly open his mouth for the small ice chip which Steve offered him on a plastic spoon.

"What happened?" Steve scoffed quietly. "You! You, my friend, happened! While you saw fit to scare me half to death with what Doctor Benning says is officially called a sub-capsular haematoma ... they had to operate again, buddy."

Steve stopped talking to wait as his partner mentally caught up, his eyes struggling to focus on his face. He smiled when Danny frowned, a slow turn of his head a message that he totally disbelieved the statement.

"Yeah, you _did_ and you're going to be fine," Steve gently insisted. "But Danno ... I read the accident reports and what you did ... how you pulled it off ... it's a damned miracle, Danno. Then ... what you did afterwards ... volunteering for surgery? Just, what the hell were you thinking?"

" _Ac'dent_?" Danny murmured, brow crinkling more, as his confusion only grew in spades. He had no idea what his partner was going on about and yet, could scarcely find the wherewithal to get his mouth to cooperate. It was difficult while lying on his back, but Danny tried to look around the room. His view was too limited though and he remained as in the dark as he was before, helplessly looking to Steve to fill in the gaps and to better explain what had happened.

" _Where m'I_?" He asked, fighting his eyes as a slurry of medication kept his pain at bay, and yet also strove to pull him back under to sleep.

Steve snorted out a soft laugh, his thumb idly roving circles on his friend's cool forehead as he watched the glassy blue eyes close. It was much too soon to talk about anything. Danny'd been through a lot and Benning wanted him calm and pain free. With her kindly regimen, Danny could barely focus and certainly didn't quite understand all Steve was trying to say.

"What were you thinking?" Steve whispered again. While his tone might have been gentle, quiet even, his own face was heavily creased with stress. He'd explain more about the emergency surgery later. If anything, Steve was still trying to get his own head around it. It seemed as if there was an ever-growing pile of things to cope with and Steve had reached maximum overload.

Not only unable to truly grasp what had just happened to Danny, he also couldn't get his head around what had happened to him - then, what Danny had done - for him. Steve stood there quietly as his friend began to doze again.

He'd learned more from the female doctor just as Danny had been getting settled in recovery. Danny's spleen had actually ruptured just as they were cutting him open. Benning had explained everything to them now - how the slow bleed had happened and why it had been missed; then likely had time to grow. And that explanation, plus finally having read through each and every accident report, highlighted by dramatic pictures, Steve had more than cobbled together an accurate version of the story.

The trauma Danny had incurred in the plane crash had not only fractured his ribs, it had been enough to create a slow bleed which no one had noticed because, at the time, it had simply been far too small. In fact, the liver bisection had actually slowed the onset of any symptoms because the blood and fluids he'd received during the donor surgery had bolstered his blood loss and the pain-killers had masked his discomfort. Chin had caught most of Doctor Benning's hurried explanation while Danny was still in surgery, but the female physician hadn't the time to fully explain it all until well afterwards.

The exhaustion had been a clue though. The general malaise, Danny's complaints of nausea, and then the pain he'd likely down-played or blown off as part and parcel of the crash - and Steve just _knew_ that Danny had done that. He heaved in a shuddering breath of air as he simply watched Danny breathe. He'd done the same thing, hadn't he? He'd chided Danny and teased him about being lazy. Negative. _Cantankerous_.

But all of those things - each one - were symptoms of the bleed worsening and the haemotoma, growing. It was a mistake. But then again, they'd all made mistakes. During Doctor Benning's discussion with him, Steve belatedly realized that he'd missed all the clues. Clues which he'd merely kidded his partner over, blaming Danny's refusal to walk with him twice that very same day in the hospital's corridor as temper. Prior to that happening though, the first hint of trouble had reared its head more than a day earlier. And if Steve chose to drive himself even crazier with guilt, he'd realized that Danny's much abbreviated attempts at exercise and constant chill had been the predecessors to it all. Coupled then with his lack of appetite, which the nurses had duly noted as a budding problem, Danny had been in a down-swing for at least forty-eight hours ... if not longer.

"Go back to sleep," Steve urged Danny quietly when he struggled to reopen his eyes, his confusion still apparent. "Everything's okay, Danno. We're still at Tripler and ... _and_ , you're going to be fine."

"Steve? But ...," Danny tried and was hushed for his efforts. Steve shushed him repeatedly as he tried to ask more questions. Stubborn to a fault even when his body merely craved rest and finally declaring his battle lost, Danny did eventually cave in to its demands. After a long moment, Steve awkwardly stood by Danny's bedside in the intensive care unit, relieved that Danny had seen fit to wake while he was still there. It was Benning who'd granted the permission for him to have the short visit, her words of advice included fair warning that Danny might be too weak to rouse after the touchy emergency operation. She wanted her patient to rest and sleep; to avoid as much as stress as possible as he healed and Steve couldn't agree more.

Steve eased himself back down into the wheelchair, wincing as his own incision pulled tight. He silently lambasted himself for the barest bit of self-indulgence. He didn't deserve a thing because he was a direct beneficiary of his partner's self sacrificing ways. He'd seen with his own two eyes, the previously hidden extent of colorful bruises and abrasions that mottled Danny's skin underneath the plain hospital gown. He'd witnessed the fall-out in their own hospital room and heard the terrifying shout of pain as their doctor sought to help Danny; his partner twisting on the bed in agony.

In typical fashion, Danny's stubborn character shone through at the end of the day though and he'd no idea what he'd really succeeded in doing. If anything, it pained Steve when he learned that no one seemed to. Not a single person inside or outside of his team had honestly given this man his true praises. And by God, Danny deserved all of their respect. It didn't feel as if he'd had any.

These last few days in the hospital hadn't been the time nor the place for jokes. At least not yet; while certainly meant to lighten a dark mood or even relieve fears, all of that had been much too soon. Especially by himself when Danny had merely been looking to reassure himself after a terrible fright and then had sought the simplest of acknowledgements. But everything was still fresh for Steve, too. Their differences shone through with coping mechanisms which conflicted to an alarming point.

"I'd do it for you," Steve said, suddenly more saddened than he'd ever felt before. "I would and I know that you know that, too. Just like I didn't mean it about Charlie ... and you. That beautiful kid loves you, Danno ... and ... I'm sorry."

He looked down at his hands which were clasped limply in his lap while mulling over that same earlier conversation. Danny had wounded his pride with particular words and he'd come back just as harshly using Charlie as his sword.

Had they truly been kidding with each other or was there more to what had happened? No, there wasn't more ... there'd been temper and bad timing. Surely, neither of them had meant their words.

"And me ... I sure as hell didn't mean that about me, either." Steve whispered so very softly. "Dammit it, Danny. I could never hate you ... never." It needed saying and he knew he'd say it again later, because now it didn't count with his partner dead to the world whilst in an intensive care unit.

Looking up slowly, Steve unclasped his hands to place them on either wheel of the wheelchair. He edged forward a few inches so that the could look directly into Danny's far too pale face. His eyes were peacefully closed though, and each breath calm and steady.

"You know ...," he whispered hoarsely and in all honesty, his voice falling to barely audible. "You took too many stupid, stupid risks ... but I sure as hell love you, partner"

He made a nonsensical noise under his breath then. Self-conscious. Just about embarrassed, he rolled the chair backwards towards the door and then stopped again. He wasn't supposed to stay long and yet, he couldn't bring himself to leave Danny's side. And surely sitting there so very still amongst the quiet of the night-time staff, he wouldn't be bothering a soul. So Steve leaned back and stared down at the floor while loosely folding his hands together once more. Steve was deep in thought and his eyes were closed when Danny's lips tilted upwards ever so slightly before relaxing in a true sleep.

A moment later, Steve fidgeted and glanced up for a second, still worried. Still on edge. One would do anything for the other and Danny had handily proven that; but his words had wounded Steve at the time and he'd come back hard. He felt bad; guilty, even. Sitting there in the near stillness of the ICU, hands in his lap, Steve knew that he hadn't been thinking clearly and certainly hadn't meant to sound so ... damned insensitive.

He wondered if Danny really believed him though - believed _in_ him?

" _Ingrate_." Steve remembered the word quite clearly. Now, he heard it in an entirely different way. And the privacy curtain which Danny'd so roughly closed in his face? That not only said _no_ , it damned well shouted it.

_**~ to be continued ~** _


	5. Chapter 5

 

**H5O* H5O* H5O* H5O* H5O**

 

Chin rocked his jaw hard to the right, but didn't say anything as he stood in the empty room with his hands on his hips. Half-illuminated by the late night lighting, it was solemn in its emptiness which only worsened his dour mood. While Steve was allowed a brief audience with Danny, the ex-SEAL had made another unexpected demand. Any and all flowers, generic gifts and balloons were to be sent somewhere else ... anywhere else. After editing what he felt appropriate to take away, Chin had simply opted for the children's ward where the flowers and few arbitrary gifts might be more appreciated. Chin knew that Steve hadn't meant it for the terrible way his request had at first sounded. As Chin silently agreed while senselessly pacing the empty room, his thoughts solely on Danny's well-being, they were now both equally upset by the current state of affairs.

Chin had taken the demand in stride because Steve's foul mood was completely understandable. Anything he might say which sounded suspect, should - and would be - justifiably excused. Sighing deeply as he checked the time, Chin was more than worried about Danny, too. He was antsy, disturbed and now that he'd promptly disposed of all the gifts and had no other distractions or jobs, he was unable to sit still as he tried to patiently wait for an update on his friend's condition.

He heaved in another big breath of air, expelling it loudly in the empty space. Except for two or three get-well cards and a potted plant with a large yellow bow, the two-bed hospital room was essentially barren compared to what it had once been. Chin chuffed a non-discriminate sound under his breath as he picked up the television remote as if to watch TV and then tossed it aside in favor of staring at the potted plant. It's deep green leaves and the flamboyantly large bow were now the only real spot of color in the otherwise drab room.

 _"Get all of that stuff gone, Chin,"_ Steve had quietly demanded. _"Send it to the lobby or reception ... break rooms. I don't care where ... just get it gone."_ His eyes had been dark and glassy, yet his voice firm. He'd brooked no argument even as Chin had tried to object. While it at first might have seemed a negative knee-jerk reaction to what Steve had evidently now deemed a problem, what Chin had helped to do was slowly starting to feel right.

There was a quick footstep in the corridor and he glanced up automatically, his eyes on the doorway. He knew who it was before she even rounded the corner and he'd already prepared himself when Kono appeared, two travel cups of coffee in hand.

"Hey," he welcomed her quietly. "Coffee. Thanks, cuz." He hummed a happy sound as he gladly accepted what she offered him with both hands so he could practically hug the hot cup to this chest. He'd been on his feet for hours now and was restless with anxiety; a fresh cup of coffee was precisely what he'd needed.

"Chin?" Kono asked breathlessly, stunned to see two empty beds. Her expression then changed to one of utter confusion when she noticed how empty the room was. With its former vibrancy of colors now gone, the space was woefully sterile except for the mussed condition of the two beds. More questions popped into her mind and she had to pause before pressing on about the urgent and much too short voicemail message which her cousin had left on her phone.

"I ... I got your message and came here as fast as I could. What happened and where's Steve? It's not the two of them, is it? Something with the transplant surgery ... did something go wrong?"

"No. It's just Danny. He ... he's pretty sick, cuz," Chin replied. "Steve's with him now; he's just out of recovery and they've moved him back to the intensive care unit. No one really should be with him yet, but Doctor Benning was kind enough to at least allow Steve to see him ... even if Danny might not be able to talk too much quite yet."

"Recovery?" Kono blinked, the news rocking her into a momentary lull because that one word indicated a startling revelation; something that she'd never considered. "Surgery? Chin? He had _surgery_ ... and he's back in the ICU? How ... how bad? Is it a complication from the donor surgery? God, Chin ... what are we going to tell Grace?" She stammered and stumbled over her words, not understanding and so badly stunned to hear the news that she had to literally sit down in the guest chair.

"It's not from the donor surgery," Chin said as he began another brief round of pacing in front of the beds. He shook his head, stopping to take a sip from the coffee cup before continuing.

"He got hurt in the plane crash ... worse than anyone knew."

Brow furrowed, Kono's mouth gaped open soundlessly. But scarcely a minute later, her words came fast and furious.

"He was _fine_ ... he said he was fine. He said he was just cold. What the hell happened that he'd need to be operated on? This doesn't make any sense, Chin! The plane crash ... _what_... that was days ago. _Days ago!_ So, what happened ... and why wouldn't the doctors have known before now?"

"He wasn't just banged up," Chin explained as he began to nervously pace the length of the room again. "He had an underlying problem ... I'm waiting to hear more. But from what I understand, the blunt force trauma from the plane crash, the broken ribs and then ... his insistence on getting to the meth lab to finish the mission. All of it, Kono ... even after he'd been checked out for the donor surgery ... it's all been working against him and he had a slow bleed which finally ... just got worse."

"But...it's been days," Kono objected, all other unspoken questions now died on her lips when her cousin merely shook his head with a dismal shrug. Their eyes met and she read the sorrow and pain which were lingering on the surface. She was taken aback by Chin's brief explanation and still perplexed as to how something so critical could have been missed.

"Is Danny going to be okay?" She asked quietly, outwardly wincing when Chin simply couldn't willingly provide the answer she wanted to hear. Feeling weak-kneed, she stayed seated in the guest chair unable to find a meaningful word to say or valid question to ask. For minutes on end, the two stayed together in the hospital room. Kono seated in a round-shouldered slump and staring at nothing, while Chin went back to his endless pacing.

The murmur of voices softly echoing in from the corridor eventually got their attention though and both looked up, relieved, when a wheel-chair-ridden Steve was escorted into the room by an orderly. Face grim, Steve nodded almost curtly to acknowledge Kono's presence as he was helped into his bed from the wheelchair.

After he was settled, Steve glanced around the room and nodded again. This time to Chin because he approved of the changes which had been made during his absence.

"Thank you," he muttered hoarsely. "It's better ... much better." His eyes were red-rimmed and his general demeanor overly subdued. As soon as the sheets were flicked over his body and the orderly had gone, Steve leaned his head back, eyes closed, and let out a long, weary exhale.

"Sure. Of course," Chin replied. He outwardly cringed though, a circumspect glance aimed towards his cousin to remain quiet, before asking the most sensitive question of the hour since it didn't look as if Steve might offer the update without prompting.

"So? How's Danny, Steve? Is he all right?"

Without opening his eyes, Steve slowly rocked his head from side to side. "Sick. Hurting. The surgery was rough on him," he mumbled tiredly. "Danny knew I was there, but was mostly out of it. Benning has him on a lot of meds to keep him comfortable. She wants him to rest ... to sleep."

"He is going to be all right though?" Kono carefully asked, worried when her boss didn't reply right away. "Steve? Is Danny going to be okay?"

"You were right," Steve said quietly after a moment's pause. He seemed to struggle to open his eyes in order to speak directly to her, his voice contrite. "Before? When you said he seemed cold and too tired? You were right, Kono. There was something wrong and you picked up on it ... he never should have been that cold."

"It was only a guess, Boss," Kono replied, worried about where Steve might be going with his line of conversation. "And Danny didn't say too much either." Her tone was sad while a weak toss of her hand communicated her feeling of uselessness. "He wasn't feverish... he just seemed tired. A little out of sorts, a little cold, but mostly just tired and wanting to sleep."

" _More_ than tired," Steve stated bitterly, his own tone beginning to reek of a sarcasm entirely aimed at himself. "I thought he was just complaining like he always does. I ignored it ... and I waved it all off. He was getting sicker by the minute ... and you knew."

"I didn't really know," Kono objected softly. "I didn't know ... I just wasn't sure. Danny didn't seem right; that's all."

"Yeah, and Steve ... there's no blame here. Danny downplayed it, too," Chin gently argued back. "He didn't think anything was wrong ... I know it doesn't make it right or okay, but he didn't think that he could be _this_ sick. It snuck up on all of us ... hell, it even snuck up on the doctors!"

Ever the voice of reason, Chin scowled almost defensively when Steve narrowed his eyes in disagreement. "You can't blame yourself," Chin insisted quietly. "None of us knew anything was wrong. All that I mean is that Danny didn't know either ... it's no one's fault!"

"Fine. Okay. Maybe you're right," Steve whispered unconvincingly. "Benning might even agree with you on that, Chin. There's other things though."

He paused once more, his expression thoughtful, before speaking again. He pointed around the now near empty room, purposefully picking out the places where the balloons and over-abundance of cards and gifts had once been strewn together.

"Listen. I don't know if it just happened ... I don't know if it was done on purpose," Steve said as he leaned back into the pillows, the palms of his hands pressed heavily over his eyes. He stayed that way as he continued speaking, his voice partially muffled by his own arms.

"Hell, I don't know anything anymore. But it stops now. I ... _we_ ... whatever the hell just happened. It can't be fixed by sending a few more cards or buying a few more gifts. It's too damned late for that anyway. It's not even what I'm getting at."

"I'm not sure I know what you mean," Chin admitted first. "What other things? What has to be fixed? What are you talking about, Steve?"

"God, I don't know," Steve moaned out plaintively. His hand waved through the air before he pointed to the potted plant and its large yellow bow. He was going to use it as an example until he recognized it as a gift from Grace and Charlie, likely ordered and paid for by Danny's ex-wife. Chin had done what he'd asked, but wisely. He'd been very smart about what he'd taken away. Almost apologetically, Steve's hand dropped limply down to the bed while he shook his head in frustration.

"Tell me this. What did you do for Danny?" Steve murmured. He looked from one cousin to the other and then asked again. "I mean ... I know you all did a lot for me. But what did you do for him?"

Kono blinked rapidly at the unexpected nature of the question, her eyes welling with tears for reasons she couldn't at first put her finger on. But before she could say anything, Steve was talking again, this time more to himself.

"Dammit, maybe I don't even mean _you_. Maybe ... I mean _me_. What have I done for Danny?" Steve whispered just under his breath before he closed his eyes, his head sinking heavily into the pillows.

Kono swallowed hard as she helplessly glanced over to her cousin. The emptiness of the room made sense now. The sheer lack of get-well cards, balloons and miscellaneous gifts. Though she and Chin were scared and worried, Danny's sudden turn for the worse had completely unraveled their boss. Steve was scared and feeling no small amount of guilt for the excessive attention thrown his way.

"I think it just happened," Kono replied softly. "I really do and then ... it just ... I don't know, Boss. When the first few get-well cards came in; all addressed to you. I have to admit that it seemed funny at first. But I get it now. I do and for whatever part I had in this... I'm sorry."

Instead of verbally answering, Steve gave a curt nod which did little to put either cousin at ease. Physically and emotionally drained, he lacked the energy to open his eyes, their burn persistent even behind closed lids. He was exhausted, yet equally upset and unable to rest his mind or his body.

"It's so much more than a few cards, letters and balloons. And to be fair, I don't think it's all on you ... if at all. There's a lot more going on that's completely on me," Steve spoke quietly, his voice low and raspy.

"The bottom line is that Danny did everything right." Eyes welded shut, he blew out a long, weary sigh as he replayed the crash scene images and reports in his head. "Danny maintained control of a volatile situation, landed a crippled bird, kept each one of us alive ... and then, _God help me,_ he did it again. He did everything right ... _except_ take care of himself. It seems like everything else that happened this week, here, in the hospital, just made it all worse."

The innuendo about their own role in that was still there though and it was left hanging in the air despite Steve's soft recitation, and Chin held his hand up when Kono opened her mouth to forestall her words. Officially on the same page as the younger man, Chin sensed Steve's emotions to be on incredibly shaky ground. Once more, rightly so if Danny was now so sick and even if it wasn't anyone's fault in particular. It still _felt_ like it was someone's fault. It felt as if they'd let one of their own down and it _felt_ like someone should be blamed. In the very least, it felt as if one of them should have done more for Danny along the way and the balloons, the sheer volume of gifts and cards which Steve had demanded now be banished from their shared room were all nothing more than kindling to the visual proof.

At first a little confused by Steve's orders to clean out the shared hospital room, Chin finally understood that order even better now. The one-sided field of get-well wishes and written kudos was no longer amusing; it was tacky. Inappropriate. At first mostly unaffected by the display, Chin _got it_ and like Steve, he felt bad.

"When can we see him?" Chin asked, his look for Kono to remain quiet more severe than he'd intended. Yet it served its purpose as she held her tongue.

"Tomorrow," Steve answered quietly, his voice hoarse and wracked by fatigue. "Doctor Benning said maybe later in the day, tomorrow; Danny needs to rest. He's had quite a setback; quite a scare."

"Yeah ... I know. I know," Chin sighed out while rubbing a hand through his hair. He felt personally aggrieved by being dismissed and sensed the same in his cousin. However, Steve needed the time to sleep too, as did Danny. Steve hadn't properly answered Kono's question either about Danny. If he might be okay. If he was going to get well and heal. They'd have to assume the best though and wait until the next day to see both their friends. Hopefully, both in a much better setting and frame of mind.

"We're going to go, Steve. We'll come back later ... first thing in the morning. We'll check on Danny first," Chin said. He nodded towards Kono because he sensed Steve's own needs - both mental and physical. The younger man had already had a long night and it was just turning dawn. He was exhausted and hurting both inside and out.

"Why don't you get some rest now, too." When Steve didn't answer or even open his eyes to acknowledge them, the cousins snuck out of the room together, sobered and unsettled.

_**~ to be continued ~** _


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I do not own Hawaii Five-0 or any characters. No copyright infringement intended.
> 
> Notes: So, half of the prior chapter and half of this chapter had originally been the final. This time, I'm glad the muse took over. Umm, though my poor beta has properly disowned me for life. Seriously apologies for SO many incomprehensible rewrites until it felt more right! Thank you KQ ... and Swifters for such support.
> 
> Well ... I hope you ALL enjoy this ending.

**H5O* H5O* H5O* H5O* H5O**

 

Danny remained in a fog for hours after Steve's quiet visit, which was truly Doctor Benning's master plan. Rest, sleep and heal were the only jobs he had on his docket and she'd set him up nicely for success. Steve's pre-dawn visit easily turned into a dream made up of spotty words, half-heard phrases and a blurred outline of Steve's face softly framed by darkness.

He sensed people coming and going around him, but that was all. For the first time he could remember since being in the plane crash, he was completely pain-free. Nothing ached. He couldn't even feel the tiniest scrape and he reveled in being numb, simply allowing himself the comfort of a peaceful half-light.

It was hours later when he began to wake more to a faint smell of food and a louder din. The meds had been slightly dialed back as if to test the waters. And almost reluctantly, Danny partly opened his eyes, squinting into the brighter light of the small room.

A room which he didn't recognize and yet, he knew he was in the intensive care unit. Splintered feelings teased his memory. A remembered terrible agony in his abdomen, flashes of light, and a faint feeling of being moved.

Steve? Doctor Benning ... a hectic sense of urgency. And the breath-taking, crippling volume of _pain_ ... that had lasted up until the very last moments of what he could recall.

Something had happened; no doubt there. However, his memories were a muddled mess now. Confused, Danny blinked, frowned and then fumbled for the bedside remote which someone had handily left tucked up against the protective rail.

"What happened?" He asked as soon as the nurse entered his room. His fingers had discovered the disturbing existence of a new bandage across his abdomen and stress riddled his tone. Steve was nowhere in sight and he was hooked up to a startling number of machines. While he certainly didn't feel well, he realized that he might be as miserable as he last remembered either. No longer chilled to the bone, there was some normal comfort to his body.

Yet something had been wrong with him ... something had happened _to him._

Utterly flabbergasted by his own current state of affairs, Danny's mouth fell open as the nurse bent over him. He thought he might even recognize her and frowned in response to her soothing smile. "How are you feeling, Danny? You've been sleeping yourself out which is precisely what Doctor Benning had hoped for ... if you're hungry, you can have something light to eat. Commander McGarrett's been terribly worried about you, too. He'll be pleased to know you're awake now."

"Steve? But ...?" Unsure of what else to say, Danny's frown only deepened. He was confused and out of sorts. His only logical response was to shake his head again, one hand tiredly raising in askance. "But ... _what happened_ ... why am I here?"

**H5O* H5O* H5O* H5O* H5O**

 

"Commander McGarrett," the nurse at the ICU's main desk welcomed him by name as he slowly made his way through the doors. When her head dropped down to compete whatever task she was dedicated to, he didn't say a single word. He simply kept going, bypassing other medical personnel, with Danny's room in his sights. He could have lied to himself, but the thought never even crossed his mind. This post-lunch stroll had had this destination as its goal from the very start. Especially after learning that Danny had finally managed to wake after hours of a deep, drug-induced sleep.

Steve tugged the thin hospital robe more tightly around him as he crossed the hallway, the small stuffed purple giraffe tucked under his elbow, his opposite hand naturally falling to the conveniently placed handrail. It felt good to walk even though the healing incision was still tight and he'd likely done too much already. His legs were tired and his abdomen burned a bit. He forgot all of it when he entered Danny's room, at first still doubtful of what he might find, only to happily see the brightness of his friend's blue eyes right away.

The two automatically smiled, one to the other, and Steve instantly relaxed. "You look better," he said in relief. "How do you feel?"

"I'm not sure I feel better," Danny replied in all honesty. "Doctor Benning was here ... she explained what happened ... the surgery. I still only remember bits and pieces of what happened last night." He was only slightly inclined, the angle gentle for the abuse his abdomen had endured. His face though, conveyed his ongoing shock over the significance of an injury he'd been completely ignorant of.

"I didn't know ... Benning said the same ... I don't know what to think anymore."

"I bet," Steve said, appreciating the clarity in Danny's eyes but not liking the pale complexion or wispy way he was speaking. He was completely unsettled by Danny's obvious confusion and shock over what had happened to him. Truth be told, so was Steve, too.

Thinking it best to lighten the mood for the both of them, Steve shuffled closer to the bed. "Hey, I got you something." With one hand wrapped around the rail, he self-consciously took the stuffed giraffe out from under his arm and waggled it stupidly in front of Danny's face.

"It's a giraffe," he lamely offered, encouraged by the astonished smile which lifted one side of his friend's mouth.

"Ah, so it is. You shouldn't have, babe," Danny grinned as he buried his fingers in the plush purple faux fur. Doctor Benning had reminded him of Steve's earlier visit - at least, that it had indeed happened. She kindly advised that he should anticipate seeing his partner and friend again ... likely around lunch time and Steve hadn't disappointed. He was right on time based on the clock. Right on time and boasting a most unlikely gift.

However, Danny hadn't seen this particular purple stuffed toy in the original pile sent their way; this little gift of sorts was most unexpected and he knew why Steve had picked it out.

"Thanks... I think," Danny's grin broadened as he held the toy, unable to help some of his light teasing. "It's cute ... and very ... purple. Where did you get it?"

"Downstairs in the lobby's gift shoppe," Steve replied, frowning obstinately when Danny eyed him quizzically from head to foot, the grin across his face the only thing banishing the heavy lines of fatigue. "You said ... once. Oh hell, Danno, never mind! It's a giraffe ... you like giraffes!"

"And you remembered," Danny teased again. "But how did you manage it?"

Steve knew what Danny was implying about a lack of a wallet or place to keep money, and he tugged the thin hospital robe closer around his body. He'd tried to carry the potted plant from Danny's kids, but that was a dismal failure. The plant was a shade too big and embarrassingly too heavy in his condition for the unexpected strain it had put on his stomach. Steve had barely picked it up. He'd barely had time to rock it into the crook of an elbow when he'd felt the warning twinge across his stitches and he'd put it quickly back down. But he'd wanted to do something and, at a loss, he'd gone to the small gift shoppe. He'd seen the giraffe and that had sparked a memory which had made Steve smile. Danny's favorite animal - go figure. Whether that tiny gem had been a joke or said seriously, Steve immediately wanted the toy. So, he'd bought it on a whim. Or more accurately, simply taken it with promises to pay for it later.

"I charged it to the room," he said with a shrug.

"You, what?" Danny said in disbelief. "This isn't the Ritz-Carlton, Steven, you can't just charge things to our room. Then again, maybe _you_ can ... _Army_ perk?"

"Shut up, Danno," Steve replied, his lips twisting upwards again as he refused to bite at the blatantly wrong reference. Their speech was stilted and uncomfortable. He didn't say a word as he measured Danny's complexion and then allowed his eyes to linger on his chest, knowing full well what was hidden underneath the light cover of blankets. The soft tissue damage, plus the added insult brought on by yet another round under a surgical knife.

"You scared the crap out of me," Steve finally admitted, his free hand motioning up and down his partner's torso. "I read the reports and saw the pictures of the crash site, too ... you did damned good pulling off a miracle like that." He heaved in a deep breath, a tiny grin lifting one side of his mouth to equal Danny's slightly amused tilt of an eyebrow. Apparently this was not the conversation his partner had anticipated. Frankly, Steve hadn't been entirely sure what he'd planned to say either. But seeing Danny awake, alert and looking far better than just the night before, was an immense relief.

Steve chuffed a pleased sound before offering another compliment. "Damned good, partner."

"I had help," Danny replied noncommittally. "Ground control was quite ... _helpful_. Plus, it's not too hard to punch a few buttons or pull a few sticks. And as far as beaches go ... I had one helluva landing strip." He shrugged off the compliment and then winced, his eyes closing briefly. "Besides, you scared the shit out of me, too. But then again and to be fair, you do that to me every single day of the week."

"Yeah, well," Steve said awkwardly as their moods fluctuated once again. "But really, you had nothing, buddy. No engines. No back-up. You didn't have a damned thing and still, you got us down in one piece." The 'barely' hung on his lips, sparking a defensive flare of temper before being quickly tamped down.

Not _at_ his friend, but _for_ him.

Danny had been entirely alone with a badly wounded partner, a dangerous criminal and a crippled piece of plunging metal which had been more tin can than plane by that point. What he'd pulled off alone was nothing shy of a miracle. And now, days later, he was still suffering from the repercussions and unfounded or not, Steve felt a pang of guilt combined with an likely feeling of fear as Danny lay helplessly in an intensive care unit.

" _Nothing_ ... and no one ... except that damned stubbornness," Steve insisted quietly. "You should have put her down in the water, too."

"What? And swim your ass out of that wreck? Before or after we'd both drowned?" Danny sniffed out a quiet, and not so amused chuckle then. "I'm me, not you, big guy. Except for now ... maybe now you're a little part of me, too."

"God help me there, Danno," Steve muttered lightly, only to receive a weak smile in response. That sketchy attempt at a smile meant that Danny was still upset and just coping, on guard as they tried to fall into a careful give and take of emotions and double-talk. Stomach twisting as he realized just how close he'd come to losing his friend just a few short hours earlier, Steve was just as upset. He felt incredibly guilty and he realized in that instant that he, too, was barely coping with everything.

The near deadly attack - his own helplessness - this odd feeling brought on by knowing his friend's insanely selfless act had left him with a new organ inside his body. It was all entirely overwhelming and Steve felt ... useless and ... guilty. Eyes full of mixed emotions, Steve glanced up when Danny tried to laugh, cringing at Danny's words no matter how innocent they were meant to be.

"Someone better keep an eye on you," Danny managed to chuckle softly, still without any humor, and immediately thought the better of it. The action caused an overt wince and Steve grimaced in sympathy when Danny hissed softly in pain.

"You okay? You want me to get somebody?"

"No. I'm fine," Danny replied. "They dialed back the meds a bit and I'm due soon. But I'm good ... I'm okay." He paused to wait the painful stitch out, a bit of sweat beading his upper lip which had Steve frowning unhappily.

"I hate water on a good day, Steven," Danny eventually whispered. "And this - by far - was most definitely not one of those."

"No." Steve bit his lip as he felt a spark of tears briefly threaten. He watched as Danny's fingers turned white as he just about strangled his plush gift. Pain? A spike of remembered fear? He couldn't be sure, but he didn't like the response and it meant that Danny wasn't taking care of himself ... again. His partner had been faced with a mammoth challenge and he'd gotten them safely out on the other side; but at what cost? Watching as Danny weakly tried to adjust his upper body, only to give up, his face momentarily creased with pain, Steve couldn't help but feel guilty.

"No, it sure as hell wasn't a good one, was it? We've definitely had better," Steve replied while carefully gauging Danny's face. Days had gone by and not a single one of their o'hana had really questioned Danny's condition or state of recovery. Only Steve's negligible health had been the focus - even Danny had focused solely on him to do the unthinkable - and it had nearly become a fatal mistake.

"Are you sure you don't want me to get someone?" He pressed, worried when Danny briefly closed his eyes, his lips thinning into a pained, white line.

But instead of answering, Danny squinted up into Steve's face. He read the expression which was simultaneously disturbed, stressed and anxious all rolled into one and came to a startling conclusion of his own.

"You're mad at me, aren't you?" Danny suddenly said in amazement. "You're ... _mad_."

There was a long moment of silence as Steve struggled past a few remarks which wanted to tumble from his lips. The most immediate would have been absolute denials to his friend's statement. But what he allowed himself to say wound up actually being partly the truth. Partly because he was still dancing around his real feelings.

"About not taking care of yourself? Yeah, you're damned right I'm mad," Steve ground out, ruing his words as they once more tumbled thoughtlessly from his mouth. "You're doing it now in fact! What the hell did you think you were doing, Danny?!"

"Me?! Don't you dare even try to tell me that you wouldn't have done the same thing!" Danny griped back defensively. His eyes filling with pain as a deep breath pulled on his abdomen. In his hand, the purple toy was nearly being throttled to death, its long neck nearly bent in half. Yet he wouldn't quit, even when his voice cracked and his face began to lose even more of its color.

"In fact, you have ...not once have you ever deigned to ever listen to me, Steven! You, of all people, aren't going to dictate shit to me about not listening ... or not having back up ... or, _God_ ... Steve. _Really_?!"

"Danny, you know what ...," Steve started to object, hackles raised and just as stridently before he simply stopped. Danny was breathing hard, his complexion poor. Beads of sweat had multiplied alarming across his forehead now. Moisture pooled at the base of his throat.

They were doing it again. The tempers; the anger. The incredible depth of defensiveness. Their voices were on the rise and if his stomach felt like knots inside, he was sure that Danny was feeling the same thing. What were they doing? Why did they always wind up in such a strange state of malcontent? Steve shook his head, heaving in a lungful of air to put a halt to the tide. Why did they keep wind up here and why couldn't at least he control it?

"God dammit, calm down. Just ... stop. Please." Ever so quietly, Steve sighed out a forlorn question which he meant in all honesty. "What the hell were you thinking, Danno?"

"I was thinking about getting us down in one piece ... _alive_ ," Danny argued back, his voice hoarse but he was still digging in hard. "I was thinking about you bleeding out in front of my damned face. What the hell else would I be doing, Steven? _Huh_? Why are you so mad about that?"

Steve groaned under his breath, shaking his head to the contrary as he backpedaled nervously. He didn't want to argue or fight; besides Doctor Benning's clear warnings that Danny maintain a calm state, he simply didn't want to go down this rabbit hole. Steve followed Danny's line of sight and looked down at his hands, surprised to see that he was virtually strangling the bed's metal rail. His knuckles were white, his fingers trembling. It took an effort, but he loosened his grip just enough to appear normal.

"God ... Danny!" Steve groused helplessly. "No. No, I'm not ... _mad_ at you. At least, not in the way you think!"

"There's different ways to be mad?" Danny asked, clearly astonished. "How's that work exactly?"

"Maybe ... just maybe, I'm mad at me," Steve answered after a long long pause. "With you though? I don't know. With _you_ , I think I'm worried ... upset... you went down in front of my eyes last night. I didn't know what to do or what to think ... and then ... I saw you ... I _saw_ you, buddy."

But it was so much more than that because for the first time he could recall, he was truly scared out of his mind. He hadn't realized just how scared until he'd seen the crime scene pictures and the added proof of just how close he'd come to dying. He'd had close calls, but this was different than all of those other terrifying times before - including that time when he'd been taken by the Taliban. Danny had come for him then; hell, he always seemed to be there for him. Yet, this was different _because of Danny_ and his incredible, sacrificing ways. Steve didn't know what to do about Danny's ultimate decision to save his life. In fact, he was avoiding even trying to come to terms with the piece of his friend he literally now held inside his own body. All of that had been preying on his mind and he'd not recognized his own poor attitude and evasive tendencies as a way of not ... coping ... putting his head in the sand. No, he wasn't mad at all; he was terrified that he not only had lost control of a situation, but that someone had gone to such an extent ... unselfishly ... _for him._

"I'm sorry," Steve muttered under his breath, the glossy full color image of the blood-stained pilot's seat foremost in his mind's eye. Except for the man lying bed-ridden in front of him, he shouldn't be alive.

"For what?" Danny asked tiredly. "Steve ..."

"No wait. Let me finish, Danny. I'm sorry because I wasn't there for you. I ... I wasn't _there_ ," Steve whispered desperately. "I wasn't there for you and I haven't been here ... now ... either. And I don't know what to do with any of what's going on or what's been happening."

He scrubbed hard at his face while gesturing again towards his friend's chest and all of the hidden bruising, complimented now by a new surgical scar next to one which looked precisely as his own. "You honestly scared the crap out of me. Why didn't you say something? I read the accident reports and saw the pictures. You never said a word and I didn't ask. Danny, I didn't realize ... _and_ I should have. I just ... I _should_ have."

Steve was shaking as he inhaled a strangled breath of air, his chest tight as he finally voiced the truth. He wasn't mad at Danny ... Steve was scared for his best friend and mad at himself for not being in control when he should of been; for not even _asking_ about Danny's well-being when he should have asked. He felt guilty as hell for being the recipient of such an insanely selfless gesture and he simply couldn't process all of it.

The assumptions ... the bad jokes ... maybe even his rude behavior. Especially what he'd blurted out so nastily about Charlie one day learning to hate his father ... as much as he did. _'God! Why the hell did I say that?!'_ Steve silently harangued himself, the knot inside his chest tightening even more to an almost physical pain. He'd had come across as nothing short of insensitive because of his own fears - and days later, he was finally realizing it because of a terrible wakeup call at his best friend's expense.

"Yeah, I should have, Danno. I just ... _should_ have."

"The accident reports? You mean from the plane crash? When the hell did you have time to read those?" Danny inhaled sharply before shaking his head to the contrary about Steve's subsequent comments. Sometime within the last few hours, Steve had managed to get his hands on the accident reports. And Danny shouldn't have been entirely surprised by that. Of course Steve would want to see them. Of course, he'd want to see everything and evidently those desires had been rushed to the top of the list upon his unfortunate medical decline. Trying to understand where his friend's head was at, Danny didn't know what to say.

"Should have been what? You didn't exactly have a choice, Steve. You damned near died."

Steve winced as he picked one word out from Danny's short retort: choice. That was the crux of the matter, wasn't it? All choice had been removed from him from the moment he'd been shot, to the very second a life-saving decision had been made for him. Closing his eyes to settle his frazzled nerves, Steve inhaled slowed and carefully, expelling the air softly before trying to continue. When he opened his eyes, he was surprised to see Danny seemingly deep in thought.

"So, Danny?" Steve gently coaxed. Danny had zoned out and his eyes jerked upwards back towards Steve, his surprise obvious when he saw the ongoing strain of dark emotions ruining Steve's features.

"What?" Danny whispered almost inaudibly, completely derailed and drained by Steve's admissions. He watched quietly, his attention drawn back to his friend's face, watching as Steve's eyes fell to the death grip he still maintained on the purple giraffe while stammering out a few questions.

"How about you? Are you ... mad? You must be ... and I wouldn't blame you one bit. Especially after what I said about Charlie ... and me," Steve rasped out, a broken chuckle ending on a cough. "It's not true, you know. I don't know why the hell I said those things... I didn't mean a single word of it ..."

"Nope. I'm not mad, either," Danny said, cutting him off as his fingers purposefully relaxed one by one, the purple giraffe slowly assuming its real shape. Anyone else would have been baffled by the ebb and flow of what might have sounded like a stilted war of words. Yet, they were suddenly and perfectly on the same page as they skimmed over one topic to take on another.

"And I know ... we both said things which we didn't mean," Danny repeated softly. "I was ... _uh_ ... scared, too. You nearly died on me ... right there. In that damned plane. Then ... after."

"Yeah, well," Steve murmured softly as he recalled the volume of dark, bloody stains evident in the pictures taken of the plane's interior. _His blood._ Danny had been there for him and Steve was defining things much differently now. Especially after ... _after_ \- after everything had been put to bed - this _after_ he was accountable for and he felt as if he'd let Danny down. All control had been removed from his hands, yet he felt as if he'd failed. And Steve was letting him down again, too, as he heard the low moan of pain which Danny failed to stifle.

"That's it, Danno," Steve said, his lips firmly pressed together as he indignantly thumbed the call button. ""You're hurting," he insisted when Danny rolled his eyes helplessly to object. "You're hurting ... and you're mad ... and I deserve that because I let you down."

"Not mad, Steven ... and you didn't let me down," Danny whispered while staring at the purple plush fibers, some of which was stuck to his damp fingers. "Never have. Everything that happened was out of your control; it was out of both of our hands."

In truth, he probably had been mad at one time. Steve's words about his son had been sharp and bitter. But his own rants had been driven by fear. Now though? He'd already moved on. Now, Danny studied Steve's tired eyes and noticed the slouched shoulders; the subtle tremble of his fingers which remained virtually tied to the bed's rail. Right then, Steve was as scared as he'd been, and trying to come to terms with his feelings of failure and impotence. For a man used to being in absolute control, Steve was being forced to swallow a terrible pill. So for Danny, there was one thing left which he wanted to admit hearing so much earlier that morning.

"And ... it's okay you know. I know you didn't mean what you said about Charlie ... and ... I, _uh_ , ...," Danny softly shared. "I didn't mean anything I said either... and I love you, too, buddy."

"What?" Steve blurted in surprise. "What ... you didn't mean ... you _what_?" His mouth fell open and he blinked wildly while staring into Danny's eyes, confused by the glint of humor he saw there. Danny couldn't have heard his soft confessions the prior night, could he?

"I heard some of it and ... well ... you look tired, babe," Danny murmured absently as he smoothly changed the subject in front of his flabbergasted partner. "Were you up all night reading those damned crime scene reports? Just how long have you been up ... walking around? Killing time and driving yourself crazy? Going to gift shoppes and charging things to our room? Are you taking care of ... you know. Our ... _thing_?"

His voice had fallen, but he was pointing to Steve's side where the organ transplant had been done. "Take care, Steven. That's all I'm asking for." He was clearly talking too much as he gave out with a dry cough. The sparkle in the blue of his eyes was gone, replaced by a weary gray. He smiled smugly though as Steve's mouth continued to gape wide open.

"Steve?" You okay?"

"Uh, yeah," Steve stammered dumbly, his face reddening as he recalled his final words which had been shared during the wee hours of the morning. He stared, not sure what to think or say, while his partner merely squirreled his shoulders carefully into the pillows, the purple giraffe tucked just under his chin. It was a very weird image and Steve forgot what he'd been saying. He blinked again, his mind racing as he tried to catch up and remember what Danny had just said.

"No. Yes," Steve faltered awkwardly over his words. "I'm fine ... and being careful. But ... uh, we can talk later since you need to do the same. And, Danny, you know ... just ... thanks, buddy. For everything."

"Yeah, s'okay. Really," Danny murmured easily, a yawn nearly swallowing up some of his next words. "It's all okay. And I know ... I _know_ that you'd do the same for me."

"Danny?" Steve choked out, his voice cracking before he could dare to say more.

"We're good, Steve," Danny quietly interrupted. He was desperately trying to keep his eyes open and a nurse was hovering behind his partner after being paged to the room. But there were definitely other priorities and Steve was still on edge. He was still downright terrified of so many things and Danny slowly shook his head when he heard Steve suck in a juddering breath of air because he easily guessed what he'd hear.

"You had no choice," Danny murmured softly as his eyes became heavier. "You had no choice, Steve. And sometimes ... that's okay."

The nurse puttered around him and the two quieted for a time after that. Neither really knowing what to say to the other as they awkwardly regarded each other and waited out the nurse's tasks, which included giving Danny a dose of his prescribed pain medications.

"Steve?" Danny pushed out wearily after the nurse had gone. Steve shifted his feet, the stress and physical activity reeking a bit of havoc on his own recovering system. "You need to get off your feet."

With the latest drugs taking affect, Danny's eyes were glassy as he dropped the stuffed toy to raise his hand, silently asking Steve to take it. "Go rest," Danny whispered. He raised a quizzical eyebrow again and nodded towards their joined hands before fondly looking up into Steve's face.

"We're good, you know. We are ... and all of this ... it's just what we do, isn't it? That's the bottom line, right?"

"No, not this time," Steve disagreed, both of his hands now covering Danny's one. With a gentle tug, he forced Danny to keep looking into his face. "No. I don't want this to be what we do, Danny. Not this time ... not today. Maybe not even tomorrow. It's not right, buddy. Too much has happened between us and I don't want to settle or argue, and go down this path anymore. Do you know what I mean?"

Squinting upwards, Danny rallied against the drugs he'd just been given. Steve's hands were trembling badly and it was clear that he was struggling to stay on his feet now. They'd been through too much together and were potentially at a painful crossroads. What Steve was trying to say was important and he wanted to make sure that he wasn't making light of things. So making himself focus harder, Danny nodded. He did get it and he whole-heartedly agreed.

But he wanted one thing to remain quite clear as he clutched Steve's fingers with the little strength he had left.

"Okay," Danny murmured. "But ... but, you had no choice and we are good. We're good ... and we're both going to be fine."

"Yeah, okay, Danno," Steve replied softly, able to find a genuinely relieved smile even though he was still incredibly ... _scared_. Scared for the two of them. He hadn't had a choice when piloting the plane or in what had happened after. But he certainly had choices now.

Resolute, Steve stood there until Danny's fingers slackened and his friend fell asleep. He stood there until his own aches became far too much to bear and a nurse shooed him back to his own room in the care of a kindly orderly.

Secretly though, Steve vowed inside to make this new bottom line matter. All the time. Every time. No matter what.

_**~ End ~** _


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I do not own Hawaii Five-0 or any characters. No copyright infringement intended.
> 
> Notes: I wasn't sure this was going to lead to anything 'post-able' in terms of an Epilogue. I sat on it and then massaged it a bit.
> 
> I guess, it's sort of a needless Epilogue ... but I had to wrap up the Dog thing even if just for myself since it made zero sense to me. Once more, thanks to KQ - the queen of last minute beta requests!

**H5O* H5O* H5O* H5O* H5O**

  
**EPILOGUE**

 

Steve's prediction about being released before Danny came true and it irked him no end. It was no lie that a few many other things did, too; especially, the cards and gifts which were still coming _after_ Danny's most recent medical scare. Most in his mind, were arriving weeks too late. Steve knew the rest of the team sensed it as well; though unspoken, there were still shared feelings of guilt and an undercurrent of tension even if Danny graciously accepted each offering with his usual equanimity.

Oddly enough though, the only thing which made Danny really smile was the ridiculous plush giraffe propped conspicuously next to his children's flowering plant. Seeing it there - strange as it was - gave Steve some calm, too. Sometimes it was the smallest of things which meant the most and Danny's scare had been an alarming catalyst.

_Danny's scare._

Those two words continually twisted Steve's insides into knots. The words were unfair and ill-timed; and verbalized as late as the get well cards were now brimming over in his friend's lonely hospital room. As far as Steve was concerned, the situation should never have gotten as far as it had despite what Doctor Benning maintained.

At once still angry and conversely upset, Steve had to hide his often displeased expression from both Charlie and Grace as he escorted the children into Tripler, Charlie's hand wrapped inside his own. What he was doing with the kids wasn't necessary and practically bespoke of his own tumultuous feelings, Steve knew that even Danny knew that. But call it guilt or a right of responsibility, Steve would be damned if the likes of Duane "Dog" Chapman would somehow remain the chosen chauffeur once he were able! Not that the professional bounty hunter was a bad sort. Far from it in fact, and Charlie was certainly enamored with the man's flamboyant ways and exciting tales.

Steve muttered unintelligibly under his breath. But it wasn't about Dog or the kids.

He'd been released two days earlier and as a sense of normalcy returned, the hectic activity had quite naturally died down around them both. Attention waned and regular schedules started to get back on track.

But Danny was still hospitalized and, after mentally calculating who on their team was doing what that day, Steve realized that Danny might not have any visitors at all.

It was an unacceptable fact even though he was tasked with staying at home and resting. The rest of the team had jobs to do: Kono, Lou and even Jerry were all back at headquarters getting into the swing of things, as well as handling any residual inquiries from inquisitive media. Chin was en route to do the same. The children had after school activities or some other obligation. Regardless, they could only go as far as an adult might be willing to take them.

So, with their father in the hospital, it was Uncle Steve's time to step in and do his part even if Charlie barely knew him. And his part meant that he was going to surprise Danny with a few very special visitors. Assuring everyone who had tried to help that he wouldn't bend or physically pick up Charlie, even to get in or out of his car seat, Steve now had both children in tow after being dropped off at the hospital's front door by Chin.

"Danno's going to be so surprised!" Grace said as they entered the hospital. "I'm going to get him something to read ... maybe a newspaper."

Steve grinned as Grace easily out-paced them, a canvas day-bag over her shoulder, and her one sole objective, the small gift shoppe and its magazine selection.

"Don't bend, Uncle Steve! I'll be right back!" She'd been doing her part to make sure that he'd not over-do things, too. Grace made sure that she was the one who safely got her little brother in and out of Chin's car first. Before even Chin could intervene, Grace had Charlie mindful of his actions with constant reminders voiced that _"Uncle Steve's still hurt ... just like Danno."_

They'd already purchased a box of Danny's favorite malasadas - two missing by the time they'd parked. Grace carried the box now and Steve was balancing two freshly brewed cups of take-out coffee in a cardboard tray. No easy feat with a four year old swinging his opposite arm like mad, an excited tug to follow his sister nearly up-ending the tray. Visiting the hospital, any hospital for that matter, wasn't a big deal for the boy. An unfortunate truth, but he was as excited to see Danno as much as Grace.

"Whoa there, Tiger!" Steve exclaimed as he steadied the box as best as possible. "Hold up!"

The giggle was what made him look down though and Steve nearly choked in surprise. The glint of blue in Charlie's eyes got to him first, the shock of thick blonde hair nothing but a bright golden halo. How Danny's ex-wife had lied for so long about the child's father seemed an impossibility. How Danny ever could have believed the woman in the first place was mind-boggling.

Charlie was his father down to the devilish smile and the barely innocent crinkle of his eyes. A sometimes rarity in the mature adult, and so a total joy to experience in its miniature version.

Steve stopped dead in his tracks, his mouth hanging open in surprise as his gaze fell from the sparkling blue to the chocolate covered mouth and chin. How had he missed that? Then there was the issue of the shirt. No wonder Charlie's fingers seemed clean of malasada. He'd used the front of his t-shirt has a towel.

"Uh, what did you do ... and when?" Steve asked helplessly as he carefully dropped to a knee, a twinge of pain reminding him that stomach muscles were used for just about everything. With his hands full, he had no recourse left but to put the tray of coffee on the floor as he turned the child to face him.

"You're a mess, Charlie. Your shirt ... and I'm not sure if we have a clean one."

"It's chocolate," Charlie simply offered. He picked at his shirt with two fingers, tenting the sticky material until it puckered and stood up almost on its own. "It's chocolate, Uncle Steve."

Then he shrugged about his plight, his smile still as bright as sunshine when he looked up into Steve's face. "I ate it ... and there were no _nak-kins._ "

"Did you eat it or wear it?" Steve breathed out as he virtually melted under the kid's open smile. "How does your father do it?"

"I ate it ... and Danno likes chocolate, too," Charlie answered him in all honesty. "He spills sometimes, too. Like me."

"Spills?" Steve asked, his eyes blinking rapidly as he remembered one other time he'd first heard something far too similar.

"Do you have a _nak-kin_ , Uncle Steve?" He held his fingers up, rapidly pressing them together to prove their tackiness, and Steve winced. "I can fix it." There might not be any obvious signs of chocolate, but he could see the sugary stickiness as Charlie's fingers were wedged under his nose.

It was Grace who came to the rescue seconds later, the family penchant for drama evident in her own not-so-patient roll of an eye as she hunkered down next to them. "Uncle Steve, you're bending! Go sit ... or stand," she said authoritatively while opening the canvas day-bag. "But don't bend down!"

By the time Steve had struggled back to his feet, one hand pressing near his healing surgical scar, Grace had a packet of baby wipes in her hands and a clean t-shirt over a knee.

"Charlie! Don't make Uncle Steve bend," Grace admonished her brother as he held his fingers out so she could wipe each one just before she attacked his face, cheeks and chin.

"Hands up!" A moment later, the dirty shirt was tugged up and over his head and the clean pulled on, Grace oblivious to her brother's giggles and non-stop motion. "Done."

"I wanna see Danno!" Charlie complained as he tried to help, his face crestfallen when Grace grabbed his wrist.

"Wait!" She demanded while balling the dirty shirt into the day bag and somehow managing to pick the coffee tray up from the floor without spilling a drop. Grace shook her head, her hands full until Steve retrieved the coffee and then Charlie's hand.

"Well, okay then," Steve said with an impressed smile. "Let's go see how your dad is doing. I'll go in first ... then you two, so he's surprised."

Unable to stop grinning, Steve left the two just outside the room, but his smile faded when he saw Danny perched awkwardly on the edge of the bed, his eyes tightly squeezed shut, one arm pressed against his abdomen.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing. Why are you here? Did you miss me already?" Danny replied morosely, though he peeked inquisitively through his lashes. "And how did you even get here? You're not supposed to drive."

He swiped at his eyes as he whooshed out an unconvincing sound before sniffing the air appreciatively, his eyes brightening when he saw the tray.

"Chin ... and coffee," Steve said conversationally, though he kept measuring Danny's rather pale complexion. "Thought you'd like some real coffee, Danno. Chin will pick me back up when you kick me out."

"Coffee. You came for a visit ... and brought real coffee. You might be forgiven for all past transgressions," Danny happily replied. "Each and every one."

"I want _that_ in writing," Steve chuckled as he carefully handed over one of the cups which Danny accepted with both hands. "Are you sure you're okay?"

"Yeah," Danny muttered in disgust. "Just went for a short walk ... I'm just a little tired. It's nothing."

"Okay, because you know ... I just _might_ have brought you one or two other things," Steve said, more mollified by the reasonable explanation. "But if you're not up to it ... I can just ... wait."

"Uh huh," Danny said distractedly as he closed his eyes and inhaled the earthy aroma happily. "Like what? What could possibly be better than this ...wonderful ... fantastic ... perfectly brewed cup of coffee? "

"Oh, there's definitely a couple of things better than that coffee, Danno," Steve teased, his fingers beckoning behind him coyly while Danny still had his eyes closed.

"Ah," Danny mused softly. "I bet it's something you charged to the room ... another of your damned _Army_ perks ... except this time, it's my room, Steven. Not yours. So as usual, I'll get stuck paying."

Steve laughed out loud, his finger now waggling in Danny's face as the two smiled at each other. He shrugged nonchalantly, timing his words just as Charlie rounded the corner, the little boy's sights solely settled on his father.

"Danno!" Charlie called out as he tried to race towards the bed, only Grace's firm grip holding him back in caution. "Hi Danno! Surprise!"

"Well ... I can't exactly return them to the gift shoppe ... but, I _can_ take them back ... or give Dog a call ... you know, Charlie ... he ... _uh_ ,..."

Steve smirked happily, the words literally dying on his lips as he watched Danny's face light up in spades. His hands were shaking in surprise so badly that Steve needed to rescue the coffee cup back before it literally was dropped to the floor.

"Don't you dare!" Danny breathed out softly as he carefully tugged Charlie and then Grace into his arms and stared with all the thanks he could muster into Steve's eyes. He planted kisses on the tops of each of their heads, his smile larger than life.

"Dog, really ... _Uncle_ Steve? _Dog_? Don't you dare."

_**~ End.~** _


End file.
